


One Idiot With a Death Wish to Another

by missyay



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Briarwood Arc (Critical Role), Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missyay/pseuds/missyay
Summary: When Vax attempts kindness or wit, it always seems to be the wrong time. When he is snappish, it’s always uncalled for. When he says something heartfelt, it makes everyone uncomfortable. He has only ever learned how to stick out like a sore thumb and not give a shit. Now that he gives a shit, all he knows is how to stick out like a sore thumb.





	One Idiot With a Death Wish to Another

It’s funny, Vax thinks, how easily Vex fits in with their new friends, kind and snappish and flirty by turns: He watches her approximate a kiss in Percy’s direction, then turn around and step on Grog’s foot with what can only be described as blatant deliberation, only to have both of them angle the same look of fondness at her. 

When Vax attempts kindness or wit, it always seems to be the wrong time. When he is snappish, it’s always uncalled for. When he says something heartfelt, it makes everyone uncomfortable. He has only ever learned how to stick out like a sore thumb and not give a shit. Now that he gives a shit, all he knows is how to stick out like a sore thumb. 

Vax grew up with a heart full of love, and he has been lugging it around with him for as long as he can remember. It was easier when could wield it like a weapon at seeing his sister having her heart and her things broken by near-strangers; now, it’s only weighing him down. No, he thinks: it was easier when they were still with their mother, when his love had a home and a name and all of those other four-letter words.

Now, he thinks about letting it pull him under more often than he’d like to admit. Whenever he goes down in battle, to the sight of a blade embedding itself in his abdomen, or a spell cast in his direction, he feels a faint sense of relief. He always welcomes the dark with open arms, softening it with thoughts of his newfound friends and his sister. And every time, he’s brought back, most of the time when they’re still in the middle of the battle, most of the time without a word, because they need his help, because they’re smart and they know they can’t afford to lose him  _now_. And with every time, it feels like he comes back emptier, like that welcome dark place kept a piece of him.

He tries to make it mean something, by saying _that was close_ and laughing, trying to conjure relief at being brought back as well, and is only ever met with anger. After Keyleth doesn’t react to his love confession, he gives up on trying to tell them.

It doesn't last very long. When he sees Percy aim his gun at his own head, he feels a nauseating wave of jealousy at Keyleth and Vex’s exclamations.

When the jealousy leaves, it leaves him distant, watching Percy argue and bargain within an inch of his life: as he always does, as is his wont.

Vax pulls him aside as soon as they have a second to catch their breaths, through a servant’s door and into a dark, steep stairway. Percy stumbles once, down a step, then another. Vax catches him by the shoulder, yanking him back up again, one step below him in the narrow stairway. Percy’s pupils are blown wide, and Vax remembers that he’s got the advantage of low-light vision.  _Good_ , he thinks, with a satisfaction the situation doesn’t really warrant. Then, as he realizes that Percy's unfamiliarity with the steepness of the servant's stairs comes from the deeply unconcerned ignorance of titled people that he knows so well, he thinks it again, with more venom: _Good_. 

“Did you mean it?” he asks, abruptly.

Percy just looks in his direction, his expression less guarded than it is in daylight: Even Vax can read his vague annoyance and confusion in it, now.

Vax rarely dances around calling things by their name. He doesn’t know why he should start now, or why he wants to. “When you held the  _gun to your head_ ”, he clarifies, each word bitten out into the cold air between them. “Did you mean it.”

Percy’s expression softens instantly, and Vax only doesn’t kick him because he knows it’s involuntary, that if Percy could see his face like Vax can see Percy’s, his would stay the same unreadably pleasant half-smile he always wears. “No,” he says after a while. “Not enough, anyway. When I meant it, I still had things to do, and now I that I know that I was conceited to think I was the only one who would see them done, or be capable of it - now I have a sister.”

He says it in the same soft, disbelieving tone he did when he first told Vax, and Vax feels instantly ashamed: How can having a sister be enough for Percy to live, when it is just barely enough for Vax to not die, most of the time? 

He must make a noise, damn his inability to keep his heart locked away the way Percy manages so effortlessly, because Percy reaches out a hand and splays his palm flat across Vax's chest, then feels his way up to his shoulder. 

“Vax. I didn’t say that because I expect you to find it reason enough to live as well. I said it so you know there is hope for us both. You’ll come across a reason to live, and until then, it has to be enough to have a reason not to die.”

He has so many of those, it's hard to keep track sometimes. 

Percy steps closer still, up onto the same step Vax is standing on. “Do you want to know what helped me, surprisingly enough?”

 _Might as well_ , he thinks and nods, and then, just as he opens his mouth to say  _yes_ because he remembers Percy can’t see in this low light, Percy wraps his arms around him, and Vax’ knees almost give out from the instant, giddy  _relief_ it makes him feel. It feels rib crackingly, undeniably good, and Vax hugs him back with everything he’s got, and he’s got a lot.

Fuck, he thinks when he feels tears spilling over, that familiar ache in the back of his throat. Percy pulls back, and Vax swallows twice, as quietly as he can, and says, “Thank you.”

“Did that help?” Percy asks.

“It did,” Vax confirms, voice tight. 

“Come to me, if you want another one, or if you just want to talk. One idiot with a death wish to another.” It’s less of an offer and more of an order. Vax nods, swallows again, and says, “Okay.”

He doesn’t wipe at his cheeks, because Percy would notice, for sure. Instead, he tacks on: “I’m sorry I - I didn’t show it much, but I’m happy for you. That you found a reason to live. It’s good to see you like this.”

The words feel awkward as he says them, like they’re too big for his mouth. He doesn’t know what he means by  _like this_ , only has his memory of the delighted half-smile Percy failed to suppress at the realisation that his sister has her own will still, and nothing to put it into words.

It probably sounds like he doesn’t mean it, when in truth he means it  _too much_. Everyone has always told him to care less,  _why are you angry? Why are you crying? Stop being a sap_ , and Vax only ever responded by, defiantly, loudly, caring  _more_ instead. It’s possible, Vax thinks, that the spite that accompanies every confession he gets out, every emotional moment he lets himself have, obfuscates the honesty. There is a possibility that people would find that slightly off-putting.

Percy looks in his direction quietly, for a minute. Then, he says, “Thank you,” in that complicated, quiet tone he gets. When Vax searches his face for a clue, it’s arranged in the pleasantly blank look he gives everyone, again.   
Vax ruffles his hair as he squeezes by him, hoping to convey his feeling better this way.

“And the same goes for you, Freddie, of course,” he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve in the same motion he uses to swing open the door that leads them back to their waiting party, back into the next round of combat, back into the adventure.

“I would expect no less,” Percy says in the same, almost grateful tone he used when he said it last time, when Vax was threatening his life.


End file.
